


The Lost Letter

by Meinhardis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meinhardis/pseuds/Meinhardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hermione had never gotten her Hogwarts Letter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lost Letter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written anything before. But this story sort of stuck in my mind and I decided to write it down. Please be kind.

It wasn’t that Minerva McGonagall considered herself infallible, but she was rather shocked at the mistake she had made. Mr. Potter, who had recently become muggle liaison at the Ministry after a failed attempt at a career as an auror, stood in front of her desk ready to report the result of her mistake. She liked Harry Potter and made a point of looking out for him. His life had been hard enough before the war but after it had become a hell. The only surviving member of the Golden Trio he had a hard time finding his footing in society. He had lost his best friends in the most horrible way imaginable. Luna had been tortured to death by Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor and Ron had died defending the Castle during the battle of Hogwarts. It was no wonder that Harry’s career as auror had been a disaster. Any violent encounter threw him back into memories he’d rather forget. It was a good thing that he had found a less strenuous occupation. Muggle Liaison, it was perfect for a boy who had spent the first 11 years of his life with muggles. In this new capacity Harry been the perfect person to help his former Transfiguration professor, now headmistress of Hogwarts.   
Minerva swallowed.  
“So, Mr. Potter…did you find her?”   
“Yes, headmistress. But I must admit that for a muggle she was pretty hard to locate.”   
“Is she alive?”   
“Yes”  
Minerva heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness.” A heavy weight fell off her shoulders. “Tell me about her.”   
Harry flipped open a paper folder and began reading.  
“Hermione Granger, aged 24. Currently residing in Glenuig in the Scottish highlands. She spent most of her childhood and teenage years incarcerated in mental hospitals. She has been charged several times with arson and intent to do bodily harm. Diagnosed with schizophrenia and paranoia…several suicide attempts. Really, this girl is a mess. But she seems to have pulled herself together as she was released last year and has since been working as a translator. And here comes the fascinating bit…in the following languages: French, Italian, Latin, Romanian, Hebrew, Spanish, Korean, Norwegian, Dutch and Afrikaans. This girl certainly knows her languages… Professor?”  
Minerva had visibly paled.   
“Are you all right, Professor?”   
“Suicide Potter?”   
“Yes, well…she obviously didn’t succeed as she is alive and well. Professor, you do not seem well. Should I call Madam Pomfrey?”   
“No, thank you Potter.” Minerva stood up. “I am grateful for your help in locating Miss Granger. If you do not mind I would ask you to take your leave.”   
“Certainly, Professor. If there is anything I can do just let me know.”   
Harry Potter straightened his glasses and gave his former Transfiguration professor another look before turning around and leaving her office.   
As soon as the door closed Minerva jumped up and ran to the bathroom to empty her stomach. As relieved as she felt when Harry told her that the girl was alive, her stomach roiled when she learned about the life she had led. And it was all Minerva’s fault.   
~~~  
She had learned of her mistake by chance. A few months ago Minerva had hired someone to take over some of her administrative duties. Being headmistress was all good and well but now that the school and the wizarding world in general had settled down she felt she should have some time of her own. Specifically time to spend on new research. She had been very keen to dive into her library and research the history of Transfiguration.   
The administrator by the name of Orwell Hennesy had arrived over the summer in order to have some sort of system set up by the time the students arrived back in September. Minerva had handed over her piles and boxes of paper to the young man with a huge sense of relief and took off to her estate in highlands.   
When she returned to Hogwarts four weeks later Hennesy had been waiting for her with a report of his progress. It had all seemed perfectly in order to Minerva until he hesitantly handed her a letter.  
“I found this between the budget of 1992 and 1993. It didn’t seem to belong there. I think it is a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. It is probably just a copy of the original, I mean…I am sure it could not be the original. Although I did not see this name in any of the lists…” He sighed. “Well, I suppose I did not know what to do with it.”   
Minerva took the letter with a sense of dread.

Dear Miss Granger,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31

She had signed it herself. Her own signature glared up at her from the yellowed piece of parchment. Granger…Minerva did not recall having a student named Granger. This letter had not been sent. In all her years as deputy headmistress…had she ever forgotten to send a letter? She didn’t think so. She was always so careful, so precise in everything she did.   
“Oh no.” Minerva felt sick.   
Hennesy wrung his hands. “Oh dear. Do you suppose this Miss Hermione Granger was muggle born? If she was from a wizarding family certainly someone would have sent an owl to inquire? Maybe she went to Beauxbatons? I could look into it if you wish.”  
Minerva gave her administrator a wide eyed look. “Beauxbatons…yes. Perhaps that’s it. Do send them an owl to see if they know this Hermione Granger. But please…”   
“I will be discreet, headmistress.” Hennesy gave her short bow and left.  
Minerva McGonagall had not slept a good night’s sleep since that day.


	2. The Lost Letter 2

"Will you stop crackling at me!" Minerva McGonagall stood in front of the cottage where Hermione Granger lived. She had not gone to Beauxbatons and was definitely not home schooled. So Minerva had decided to go and visit the young woman and see for herself what the result was of her negligence and to inform the girl of her true nature. She had decided to dress as a muggle in order not to startle Miss Granger too much. It had not worked well. It was obvious that this girl wanted nothing to do with her. She became rather defensive when Minerva had stated she only wanted to talk.   
"I have spent my entire life doing what other people want. I shall crackle when and as much as I please!"   
Minerva's eyes widened. Then she suppressed a smile. She wasn't used to being spoken to in such a manner. But it seemed that this girl had character and was able to stand up for herself.   
"Wait!" The girl looked puzzled. "You can see me crackling?"   
"Indeed I can. It is quite obvious that you are about to let go some of that magic you have pent up. But I doubt you are able to control it."  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
"Here, let me help you." Minerva took her wand from her sleeve and pushed it in Hermione's hand. Instantly the magic causing the girl's hair to stand up straight streamed into the wand. "Now, I'd rather you didn't move that about lest you accidentally obliviate me or conjure a dragon.   
Understanding dawned on Hermione's face. "Oh...oh!! Oh thank goodness. I get it now."  
"You do?" Minerva stated hopefully.  
"Yes! You are a figment of my imagination. Thank goodness I thought you were real. Well, won't you come in...er...what did you say your name was? Professor Somethingorother?"  
"Professor McGonagall, and I can assure you I am quite real."  
"Yes, yes, that is what all figments of my imagination say." The girl waved her wand hand almost setting fire to her own hair. "Tea?" Hermione stepped inside the cottage leaving the door open for Minerva to follow her in."  
Minerva sighed. Perhaps this was going to be even more difficult than she had anticipated. She had imagined anger, sadness perhaps even disbelief but not this. "Tea would be lovely, thank you."  
Inside, the cottage seemed more spacious than outside. Minerva suspected that this had been done by magic. Most likely not intentionally. It was a little disconcerting to see the amount of natural magic this girl possessed.   
Hermione motioned the headmistress onto a sofa. It was a very comfortable sofa but it made it entirely impossible for Minerva to look respectable, let alone awe inspiring.   
Now that the girl had decided that she was a mere figment of her imagination she seemed to have calmed down considerably. She was making tea and had put the wand on the kitchen counter.  
Minerva accio'd her wand wordlessly and decided to perch on the sofa's arm instead of sinking down into the cushions. She wondered how to go about this and decided to start with a question.  
"Do er...do you often get visits from figments of your imagination?"   
"Oh yes, quite often," Hermione answered from the Kitchen. "There is this little grey-greenish creature that comes around and cleans the cottage. She says her name is Polly and she insists my great grandmother sent her, which, of course, is nonsense. I never even knew my great grandmother. She died long before I was born. So how could she send me anything? I must admit she puzzles me. I must have invented her to make cleaning less troublesome. I never had to clean before, you know. I never had anything worth cleaning, except my teeth. But then I wouldn't ever have allowed her to clean those. She also brings groceries."  
A house elf, Minerva deducted. "Does this Polly have rather large ears and big glassy eyes?"  
Hermione walked over with two steaming mugs of tea. "Yes, that's her. You know her?"   
"Not personally, no."  
"Oh, too bad. I thought perhaps all you figments came from the same part of my imagination. Anyway, aside from Polly there is also this rather grumpy chap. Very short, long fingers, pointy nose. He comes only once a year though, on my birthday. Started coming on my 17th birthday. Every year he promises me gold, lots of it. Mountains of gold, all locked up underground, guarded by a dragon. All I have to do is sign on the dotted line. Well...I am not falling for that. Who knows what I am really signing for. Probably nothing good. He is just trying to trick me! I don't like him. He has this awful name, Captain Hook." Hermione curled her nose. "No, I don't think he is up to any good. He is pushy too. Won’t leave until I get so upset that things start to ignite." She handed Minerva a mug.  
"I don't suppose you mean Mr. Griphook?"   
"Is that what his name is? Are you sure you don't all come from the same place?"  
"Positive."  
Hermione sat down in a chair opposite the sofa. "You know, I really thought you were a social worker. With that black suit and stern look. But if you are only a figment of my imagination I do wonder why you are here."  
Minerva nodded. "I suppose I should explain myself. I am here, Miss Granger, because I made a terrible mistake. And I was hoping I could do something, anything to undo some of the damage I have caused."  
Hermione cocked her head. "Interesting, do continue."  
"Well, imagine you are a child, but not an ordinary child. Sometimes things around you act differently. Say that, for instance, your toys come flying towards you when you want them. Or you have a cat that seems to understand every word you say. Or perhaps, when you get angry people get hurt. You don't really want any of this to happen, especially since you find that other children shun you and that your parents look at you with a sense of dread. And then one day when you are eleven years old something happens. Imagine that somewhere in the Highlands, not far from here actually, there is a castle where there are many more children, just like that. And when you are eleven you are allowed to go there. Not because you did something bad, but because you are special. To be allowed into that castle you need to have magic in you. And every year eleven year old magical children get a letter inviting them to come. I used to write those letters.”   
Hermione laughed. “Are you a fairy? Come to whisk me away to your magical castle to live happily ever after?”   
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a fairy?”   
Hermione considered this for a moment. “No, not particularly. A fairy would have wings and would probably not wear a black turtleneck. I’d imagine something more revealing. White and flowy…no shoes. Perhaps they would be a bit shimmery? Wait…black clothes, pale skin, stern look…are you a vampire?” Hermione’s eyes opened wide.  
“Certainly not!” Minerva clipped. “Apart from the fact that I am here in broad daylight, which should be giveaway, I do not have eternal youth and I do not crave your blood or anyone else’s.” Minerva’s eye twitched as visions of people whose blood she could have drank came to mind.  
“You may say that, Professor, but I haven’t seen you drink that tea yet. It would help immensely if I saw you drink something other than blood. Just to be sure you know.” Hermione tried to keep a straight face but failed horribly.  
Minerva smiled. “I am glad to see you have a sense of humour.”   
“Well,” Hermione sighed. “When I was eleven I was whisked away to a mental institution. There were very many special children there. Some of them thought they had magical powers. I may have thought that at some point. But it turns out I am schizophrenic. The kind with a very active imagination and a tendency towards destruction. I didn’t need a letter to get in. My parents dropped me off and I never saw them again.”   
Minerva’s heart broke.   
“Hermione, would you like for me to whisk you away to a magical castle?”   
“I suppose that would be rather splendid. Too bad you are a figment of my imagination.”   
“ I assure you I am quite real.”  
“Yes, you mentioned. Anyway, I should get back to my translation. Norwegian Railways will wait for no one! They need this done this evening. It was awfully nice of you to come by Professor McKnowitall. Let’s have tea again soon.” Hermione got up, expecting Minerva to follow her example.  
Minerva however had no intention of leaving before she had done what she came to do. She gave the girl in front of her a stern look and took a sip of her tea. “You may want to sit down again, Miss Granger. I have something that need to be said and I need you to listen to me and pay close attention. That child that I described, does that sound in any way familiar?”   
Hermione hesitated. “Yes, but I was a child and didn’t know any better.”   
“That’s right,” Minerva said. “And when you were eleven you believed you were magical.”   
“Hence the hospitalization.”   
“That was my fault. I lost your letter.”   
“What the hell are you going on about?” Hermione was getting angry. “I want you to leave now! You are not making any sense!”   
“No, listen to me Hermione. I lost your letter. When you were eleven you should have come to this castle I mentioned. You should have been my student but I lost your letter. It was never sent.”   
Hermione screamed. “Get out!”  
“I am Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I am a witch. And so are you.”   
Minerva raised her wand just in time to block a huge ball of fire coming her way.


	3. The Lost Letter 3

When Hermione’s panic attack had run its course she sat huddled in a corner of what was left of her cottage. Minerva had shielded them both from fire and debris and sat next to the young woman.   
“This is why you should come with me,” she said, gently. “I can teach you how to control and use this magic.”   
Hermione held her hands over her ears and started murmuring: “This is all in my head, it is not real. This is all in my head, this is not real.”   
Minerva felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh my dear, I am so sorry.” She took the girl in her arms and apparated them to her private rooms at Hogwarts.   
\--  
As soon as she felt the floor of her living room under her feet she sent a patronus to Poppy asking for a dreamless draught. In the meanwhile she lifted Hermione onto her bed. The girl was shaking but unresponsive.   
“What to do with you?” Minerva sighed.   
It didn’t take long for Poppy to bring along the potion that was requested. “Who on earth is that?”  
“This,” Minerva stated, “is Hermione Granger. She will be staying here for a while.”   
“She doesn’t seem well.” Poppy raised her wand to run a quick diagnostic. “My goodness, this girl is stuffed to the brim with all sorts of chemicals. Medication…muggle medication. I wonder that she is even breathing!”   
“I wonder the same.” Minerva stated. “Please, could you give her the dreamless draught? She needs rest.”   
Poppy nodded and administered the potion. “Is this girl mentally ill, Minerva? The medication in her system…muggles administer it to people with psychoses. I’ve never seen it in quite this high a dose though.”   
“I believe Hermione believes herself to be insane, but I very much doubt this is the case. You see, she is a witch but she has lived her life as a muggle not knowing she is a witch.”   
Poppy’s eyes popped. “Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear… But she is alive!”   
“And that is all there is to say about it. She is alive, but nothing more. And I mean to make her more than just alive. I need to right this wrong.”   
“Well,” Poppy stated, “you’d best keep her down for a while, let her body get rid of that poison. It will take 24 hours for most of it to wear off. Some of it will linger longer. She’ll need some potions against headaches and dizziness for a while. But she should be fine. Physically I mean. The rest is up to you, Minerva. Are you sure you have time for this? The school year will start next week. I am sure you could find someone else to take this girl on. There are many respectable wizarding families...”  
“Oh Poppy, I have an entire school full of teachers at my disposal and a fine curriculum set up already. I am sure I will be fine. She can learn all she needs to know right here.”   
“If you say so,” Poppy muttered. “Well, I had best be off. I have a very nice book and cup of tea waiting for me.   
Minerva nodded a goodbye and let the matron go. She looked at Hermione, now fast asleep in her bed. The girl looked completely disheveled. With a wave of her wand Minerva cleaned off the worst of the dust and debris and with a muttered spell the young woman’s clothes transformed into a soft nightgown.   
Then she walked over to her desk and set to work. There were many people to write and many things to arrange for Hermione to become a member of Wizarding Society.   
\--  
A full day later the dreamless draught wore off. Minerva had prepared for it and sat waiting in a chair by the bed with the latest edition of Transfiguration Today. Hermione stirred and groaned as she moved limbs that had been stuck in one position for 24 hours.   
“Good morning.” Minerva tried.  
Hermione slowly opened her eyes and reached for her head before letting out another groan. “Oh no…it is YOU! Please leave me alone. I don’t need a social worker. I’ll just go back to sleep now, ok?” And with those words Hermione rolled over and snuggled up under the blankets.   
“Well, that’s nice. I’ve had people less than excited to see me, but generally they dare not turn their backs on me, “ Minerva grumbled and went back to her magazine. The girl would wake up some time on her own accord.   
\--  
A couple of hours later Hermione opened her eyes and stiffened. Where was she? Without moving she scanned her surroundings. In a bed…a very comfortable bed. It smelled good to. The room was cool and dark and decorated with antique wall hangings and paintings. Wait…did that lady just move? Hermione blinked. The portrait seemed still again, but then it smiled at her. Hermione screeched and sat up pulling the blankets up under her chin.   
“Ah, you are awake.” Minerva put the magazine away. “Good, I was getting bored just sitting here. Those nitwits at Transfiguration Today have no idea what they are talking about. Might as well be Ancient Runes. How do you feel?”  
Hermione screeched again at the look of Minerva at the foot of her bed. Immediately her hair became static and started crackling. Minerva quickly placed a shielding charm around Hermione. “Let’s not start that again, shall we? I rather like this room and it would be sad to see it in pieces.”   
“Where am I?” Hermione whispered. “Who are you?”  
“You are at Hogwarts, Miss Granger. And I am Professor McGonagall. I came to your house yesterday morning to tell you that you are a witch. It didn’t go very well I’m afraid. After you destroyed your house and nearly killed yourself I decided to take you with me. I hope you slept well.”   
“You are that social worker!”  
“I appreciate that you recognize me despite my different appearance.” Minerva gestured at her long black dress and robes. “But I fear that I am not a social worker. I am the headmistress of this school.”  
Hermione whimpered. “I need my pills.”   
“Yes, that is another matter.” Minerva crossed her arms. “No more pills. You don’t need them. You are quite sane.”   
“But I want them.” Hermione’s lip trembled.  
“Stop pouting. You destroyed them together with the rest of your belongings. You’ll have to do without from now on.”   
“But I see things without them.”   
“Things like what?”   
“Like you! And that painting just smiled at me.”   
“Yes, well. That just means there is nothing wrong with your eyes.”   
“But none of this is real!”   
Minerva sighed. “I’d rather not start that discussion again. Shall we just deal with the reality that presents itself at this moment? We can talk about other realities at some other time if it pleases you. I have much to say on the subject. But now we have more important matters to attend to. I took the liberty of locating your House Elf. She is staying with the other House Elves living here at Hogwarts. If you call her she will bring you something to eat from the kitchens. We also need to find you something to wear. I’ve selected a few items from my wardrobe that you might like. We will go to Diagon Alley to find you something more suitable tomorrow. I have cleared my schedule to take you there. I may have mistakenly thought you’d like a familiar face around. Still, you need me around to keep that shield in place, just in case. Well…get out of bed. I’d say you’ve slept quite long enough. How about we start with a shower. The bathroom is through there.   
Hermione got out of bed and looked at Minerva suspiciously. “I think I liked you better when you were a social worker.”   
Minerva rolled her eyes. “Get a move on, will you? And Welcome to Hogwarts.”


	4. Chapter 4

Shopping had been an entirely new experience for Hermione. She hadn’t done much of it in her lifetime. She tended to avoid crowds so ordering online had been her main way of obtaining whatever it was she needed. But even with that limited experience Hermione certainly knew that this shopping trip was…unusual. As soon as they had arrived in Diagon Alley Hermione started to panic. She had expected a loss of control, but the shield that Minerva her cast on her did its job and soon Hermione had calmed down enough to look around and be amazed.

First the two women had gone to Madam Malkin’s for a complete new wardrobe. Hermione had needed some convincing to stay clear of black and grey. Eventually she had settled on a few dresses in darker shades of blue and green. Where the choice of fabric had been a challenge, the fitting of appropriate lingerie had been a disaster. The wizarding world had not moved on to the comfort of sports bras, or any kind of bra really, so Hermione was stuck with a choice between the harsher but very flattering corset or a slightly more accommodating but equally inconvenient corselet. As she had no idea of the merits of either garment she just ordered some of it all. She decided to figure it all out at a later stage.   
When the two women were walking along Diagon Alley again Hermione appeared, for the very first time it seemed to Minerva, cheerful.  
“I feel like Charley in the Chocolate Factory, “ she said.  
“What’s that?” Minerva questioned absentmindedly and she weaved her way through the crowd, guiding Hermione by her arm.  
“That would make you Willy Wonka!” Hermione laughed. “Although you do not dress colorful enough. So perhaps that comparison doesn’t quite work.”   
“Who is Willy Wonka?”  
“Never mind. Where are we going?”   
“Ollivanders. We need to get you a wand.”  
“A wand? You mean like a magical wand. Like what fairy godmother’s have to turn pumpkins in to carriages and all that?”   
“Well, the wand in itself is not magical. If you give a wand to a muggle he couldn’t do much with it…poke someone at most. But I suppose one could turn a pumpkin into a carriage. That sort of transfiguration isn’t too advanced. Any fifth year would be able to do it. But I can’t really see the point of it. Witches don’t need carriages. And fairies don’t carry wands. Only wizards and witches do.”   
Hermione smirked. “I must say this is a rather strange reality and I don’t quite believe in it.”   
“That’s all right,” the headmistress stated. “As long as you go along with it. We have arrived.”   
Minerva held open the door of Ollivanders Wand Shop to let Hermione in. She was slightly amused at the young woman’s look of something resembling awe. She was glad to see that Hermione was not entirely opposed to her new world.   
“Good morning Garrick,” Minerva greeted the old wand maker.  
“Ah…headmistress. An honor. How can I help you? I hope there is no trouble with your wand? Although, even if there would be I would certainly be able to help.”  
“My wand is just fine, thank you. I have come here to purchase a wand for this young lady.”   
Ollivander gazed over his spectacles with interest. “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure before, Miss…”  
“Granger,” Hermione answered. “No, you are quite right. I have never been here before in my life.”   
“Might I assume, in that case, that you have not owned a wand before?”   
“That’s right.” Hermione gazed at the infinite stacks of boxes. “Are these all wands?”   
“Yes, they are.” Olivander looked at Hermione with interest and quickly ducked underneath his counter to pull out one of the boxes.   
“We might try this one for you, Miss Granger. 9“, fir, dragon heartstring.” He opened the box and handed Hermione the wand. “Let’s see you cast a spell.”   
“I don’t know any spells. You mean like abracadabra?”   
At those words the wand maker ducked behind his counter. When nothing happened he slowly and carefully poked his head out. “Minerva…where did you find this girl?” he croaked.  
“Don’t worry Garrick, I have her shielded at the moment. And she truly doesn’t know any spells.” She then directed herself to Hermione. “You shouldn’t just go around muttering words you do not know, especially not whilst holding a wand. ‘Abracadabra’ is not a spell. But something that sounds very similar is a killing curse. Hence the fear in this gentleman’s face. Now, Hermione. I am going to remove your shield and I would very much like for you remain calm.   
Hermione nodded.  
Minerva then took the wand from the young woman’s hands and put it back on the counter. “As you may notice, Garrick, you have given Miss Granger a wand that is practically the same as mine. You most likely noticed my magic on her. Well done though, only half an inch off. But you might want to give it another go.”  
“Are you sure she is safe, headmistress.”  
Minerva smiled. “I am quite certain she is not. But I can’t do much about it if we don’t get her a wand. So if you would…”  
“Yes, yes, all right. I understand.”   
Garrick Ollivander gave Hermione another good look and ducked in between the shelves. When he found what he had been looking for he resurfaced and handed Hermione a beautifully carved wand.   
“Let us try this one, Miss Granger. 10 ½“, vine, thestral tail hair.”  
Hermione held the wand. “What do I do?”  
“Just give it a wave dear,” Minerva answered.   
Hermione waved the wand…nothing happened.  
“How peculiar.” Ollivander commented. “How peculiar…she does have magic.”  
Hermione scowled. “You two are just playing with me. Trying to make me believe in magic and wands. I knew this was all just nonsense.” She made ready to leave the shop but Minerva grabbed her arm. “Hermione, don’t…” The young woman pulled her arm away. “Let me go! I hate you!” And suddenly a bright light erupted from the wand she was holding, blowing a hole right through the shop window, shattering the glass and causing havoc in the street outside.   
“Right…” Ollivander commented. “Not quite right. I should get you the 10 ¾ vine with dragon string, I believe.” And with those words he once again disappeared into the back of his shop.  
While Minerva set out to repair the wand maker’s window Hermione looked on in amazement. “I just blew up the window.”   
“Yes.” Minerva responded dryly.   
“But I didn’t blow up the entire place.”  
“A marked improvement.”  
“And you are fixing that window…with magic?”  
“That’s right. Oh, don’t look so amazed, Hermione. It is an easy trick. I will teach you some day.”   
“You are not angry?” Hermione suddenly felt fear overwhelm her.  
“No, why should I be angry? Oh my dear, I think not a week passes that Mr. Ollivander doesn’t have his window display destroyed in one way or another. It all comes with the job.”  
At that point the wand maker reappeared with another box. “Here you go, Miss. I am certain this is just what you need. Go on, give it a swish.”   
Hermione took the wand that was offered and gently waved it around. A thread of pink smoke emitted from the tip which gently made its way towards Minerva. The smoke swirled around the headmistress strict bun and suddenly her hairpins fell to the floor and the pink smoke was gone. When she saw what she had done Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth. Minerva just smirked as black tresses dropped to her waist. “I think we found the right wand, Garrick.” The wand maker just stared.


	5. Chapter 5

“Suck it in!”  
“I am sucking it in! I am just fat, this thing doesn’t fit me.”   
Minerva McGonagall smiled. “You are pleasantly plump my dear, and this corset does fit or else Madam Malkin would not have sold it to you.” She pulled at the ribbons once more while Hermione sucked in her belly as hard as she could.   
“There…that should do.” Minerva stood back and appraised her handiwork. “Quite fetching I must say.”   
“Oh yeah? Well, I feel like a balloon that is squeezed in the middle. It feels like either my head or my bum will pop. Seriously, do you wear these?”   
“I do,” Minerva answered. “But only on when I have to wear a gown. I find it hides some of my imperfections.”   
Hermione gazed at the willowy form of the headmistress. “Imperfections? What are you talking about? You are beautifully svelte.”   
“No matter how slim one is, age does terrible things to a body. And although I do not consider myself a very vain person, when there is a party I like to look my best.”   
“Age does terrible things? What has age ever done to you? I know it is rude to ask, but how old are you anyway? You’ve mentioned age a couple of times and I find I have a hard time pinning one on you.” Hermione had the grace to blush slightly, something Minerva noticed and thought rather endearing.  
“I am 69, soon to be 70.”   
Hermione laughed. “Yes, and I am 12 years old. Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked…”   
Minerva glanced at Hermione’s bosom. “No one would mistake you for a twelve year old, Hermione.”   
“No one would mistake you for a seventy year old, professor.”   
“Yet that is what I am.”   
“I don’t believe you.”   
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “As you do not believe any of this I do not think that matters much.”   
“Ah! Touché!” Hermione smiled. “This is turning out to be a rather odd dream, you know. I wonder if I’ll remember any of it when I wake up.”  
Hermione grabbed one of the dresses she had bought and slipped into it. “So, professor, what’s next in this action packed adventure? I have a wand, I have a peculiar dress…when will I learn magic?” 

Minerva motioned for Hermione to sit down. With a rather inelegant thump Hermione landed on the sofa, unable to sit up straight with the constraining underwear trying to press her intestines up into her lungs. Instead she opted for a slightly awkward reclining position. . Minerva observed her protégé from the corner of her eyes as she went into the kitchenette for some tea. With some effort she suppressed a snort. That poor girl really needed some guidance. Once tea was served Minerva sat down next to Hermione and started to explain.  
"In September the school year will start. You will be sorted into a house with the other first year students and will take lessons with them."   
"Sorted into a house? What does that mean?"   
"This school was founded by four powerful witches and wizards. In the beginning each of them would select their own students. Godric Griffindor was very keen on courage, Salazar Slytherin preferred cunning, Rowena Ravenclaw valued intelligence and logic most and Helga Huffelpuff...well, some say that she selected on kindness and loyalty but we all know she simply took the rest because she couldn't stand the idea of selection in the first place. In present days this selection of students has resulted in groups of students being housed together after a magical hat has sorted them with either Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Huffelpuff. They all sleep in dormitories and have a common room. They take their lessons together, sit at the same table to eat in the Great Hall and form life long bonds of friendship and loyalty."   
"Fascinating stuff," Hermione smiled. "So a magical hat will tell me which other students I will take classes with..."   
Minerva nodded. "And where you will live."   
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You mean for me to live with 17 year old students? Sleep in a dorm?"   
"Ah! Well...yes indeed." Minerva took a sip of her tea. "Except they are 11 and not 17."   
Hermione suddenly sat up straight. "I am sorry. Did you just say they are 11?"   
Minerva nodded and took another sip. "You may have mistaken the nature of this school. This is not a university. Our students arrive when they are 11 years old and stay for seven years."   
Hermione's face turned red and she started to gasp for air. "Well! YOU just may have mistaken MY nature, professor. This has been a lot of fun but I think I shall go home now. I have NO intention to go to school with children, and I will definitely not live with them. I am NOT a babysitter." The girl's voice steadily became louder. "Thank you for the tea, please show me out."  
"Hermione, please stay calm. Do you not see that this is the logical course of action? You have to learn from the beginning, as do these children. And you need to sleep somewhere! Also being sorted into a House will enhance a feeling of belonging."  
Hermione stood up straight and walked to the door. "I do not mind learning from the beginning but I do mind being treated as a child. I have had quite enough of that. My dorm days are finally over and I will make sure it stays that way. And as for a feeling of belonging...I do not care for such a feeling. I don't know what it means anyway." With those words the young woman opened the door, walked out and slammed it shut behind her.  
The electricity surging through the air made it very clear to Minerva that Hermione was about to explode. This hadn’t gone quite as she had planned. She had imagined some resistance to the dorm room idea but not plain rejection. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly so, that Hermione would accept her logic. Suddenly the voice of her dearly departed friend Albus Dumbledore sounded from the painting of a Scottish landscape. His kindly face appeared in the frame with a slightly singed beard. "My dear, I do not know what kind of force you have running around the hallways but I advise you to go and tend to it quickly before she ruins the entire castle."   
Minerva sipped her tea and sighed wearily before getting up to stop her explosive protégé from destroying the castle.

\--

Hermione felt thoroughly confused. This psychotic dream was lasting longer than usual and was unlike anything she experienced before. In fact she found that as the days went by she came to accept the absurd situation as the truth. During her conversations with the professor the horror of her life so far started to make sense in a most unsensible way. She started to accept that she was born a witch who was made to believe she was insane and consequently spent her entire youth hospitalized and drugged. The one who had caused this was Minerva McGonagall and Hermione hated her for it. Resentment had started to burn under her skin. It was unlike the electrical surge that magic made her feel and thus was not something that the elder witch could block or control with spells. But while Hermione hated Minerva she also clung to her for dear life. In this new world of magic the black haired witch felt safe and steady. Her matter of fact ways and cool intelligence were Hermione’s rock. The stories she told fascinated her and made her want to know more about magic, but also about the woman who had caused her to be who she was. 

Minerva had lost the battle over living arrangements. Eventually she had to agree that an adult woman had no business living with hormonal teenagers, no matter how much they had in common education-wise. She had the house elves create a private corner in her own personal living quarters and Hermione seemed perfectly content there. In practice this meant Minerva had to learn to live with a roommate. Hermione was not very intrusive and Minerva rather enjoyed her presence most of the time. Sometimes she would catch the girl giving her very dark looks however, looks that unsettled her. It was plain that Hermione had not made up her mind about her yet. But aside from the personal aspect Minerva also found that it was useful to be nearby when Hermione felt emotional as she still had not learned to control her magic. They were still working on that but Hermione’s magic was very strong and over the years had been made to behave differently from the magic of wizards and witches who had the opportunity to learn how to use it from a young age. Hermione’s magic was primal and presented itself whenever the girl wanted something or felt strong emotions. It was mostly unconscious which is what made it so difficult to control. Tomorrow the girl would be sorted and start her official education. Minerva truly wondered how Hermione would fare at Hogwarts. She would find out soon.


End file.
